


traveler

by soulofme



Series: sheith sentence prompts [14]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:11:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: Shiro leaves.Shiro dies.(over, and over, andover.)





	traveler

**Author's Note:**

> sentence prompt #27: breathe, okay? just breathe.

**DAY 0**

 

The café is busy when he ambles in.

Rain water soaks his hair flat to his skull and leaves droplets along his skin. He shivers in the circle of cold air he has let in. He listens to the bits of conversation he picks up ( _happy birthday! – when are you leaving? – you look good)_ as he drags himself to an empty table.

He stretches his legs out and eyes the clock. The second hand moves slowly— _tick…tock…tick…tock_ —and he feels himself grow restless. He doesn’t jump when a woman appears next to him, nor when she lays a menu flat on the table before him.

“What can I get for you?” she asks. Her voice is soft. Knowing.

“A chance,” he says.

She sets a steaming mug before him. He leans forward to stare into it. It's the color of amber. The haunted expression on his face makes him sick to his stomach.

“Good luck,” she whispers. She disappears without a warning about how horribly things could go wrong.

Maybe this will work, then. He wraps a hand around the cup and brings it to his face. The steam curls in the air and wafts the scent of honey to his nose. He brings in as much air as he can before he takes a sip.

_Warm, sweet, hot, too hot…_

The mug falls from his hand and shatters to the floor.

 

**DAY 1**

Shiro is awake.

He’s sitting behind the counter, laptop in front of him and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows are furrowed as he stares at the screen, one hand braced against the side of his face. He looks exhausted. The blue light casts dark shadows across his face.

Keith steps forward.

The floorboards creak beneath him. Shiro jumps at the sound, looking disoriented for a few moments before his eyes focus on Keith. He smiles wide, dimples punched into his cheeks, and gently closes the lid of his computer.

“Hey,” he says, his voice warm. “What’re you doing up?”

“It’s three in the morning,” Keith answers. Shiro looks guilty as he leans back into his seat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, even though there’s really nothing to apologize for.

Keith swallows hard and slides into Shiro’s lap. Shiro accepts him easily, winding his arms around him and planting his hands on either side of his waist. Keith stares at his face, reaching up to gently tug the glasses off and set them aside.

“Do you have to go?” he asks. The question brings forth _that_ memory ( _unknown error — Flight 137 — no survivors_ ).

“Baby,” Shiro brings him closer, runs a hand down his spine, rumpling his shirt even more. “I’d stay here if I could. But they need me over there.”

“I know,” Keith says, shifting so he can grab a handful of Shiro’s shirt. He holds tight enough that the buttons bite indents into his palm. “I just…I have a bad feeling, Takashi.”

“Keith,” Shiro’s whispering now, cupping his jaw and gently bringing him to face him. “It’s only for two weeks. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Please don’t go,” he says, gripping harder, and Shiro shakes his head and gently extracts him.

“It’s going to be fine,” he promises, pressing a kiss to the side of Keith’s head.

Five hours later, the plane crashes into the Atlantic.

Shiro never makes it back.

 

**DAY 2**

Keith tries a different tactic this time along.

He stays awake until three, when he feels the mattress shift behind him. He rolls onto his side and grips onto Shiro’s wrist with all the strength he has.

“Where are you going?” he says, trying to instill as much exhaustion as he can into his voice.

“Don't worry,” Shiro says, sleep-warm as he presses a kiss to his nose. “I’m just going to look over some paper work.”

“You should rest,” Keith says, sliding his fingers along Shiro’s wrist. “You’ve got an early flight.”

He kisses Shiro’s shoulder, trails his lips along the side of his neck and along his sharp jaw.

“Please?” he whispers, feeling how Shiro melts into his touch.

“Okay,” he agrees finally, voice soft as he slides back into bed. He throws an arm around Keith’s waist. “Just for a little bit.”

Shiro is gone when he awakes. Keith prepares to try again.

 

**DAY 3**

Keith pretends to be sick.

Shiro hovers over him like an overprotective mother, laying the back of his hand against his forehead. His eyebrows wrinkle as he removes them, reaching for the cuff links he’d left on his side of the bed.

“You don’t have a fever,” he says as he works them into the tiny holes on his shirt. “What hurts, baby?”

“Everything,” Keith gets out, his voice hoarse like he’d been coughing up a storm. He had, when Shiro had been in the shower, and he hates himself for it.

But this will save Shiro. It has to.

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” Shiro mutters, sounding like he’s at war with himself. Keith tries not to look so enthusiastic.

“Didn’t you say they need you?” Keith asks. Shiro shakes his head.

“I’ll tell them I’ll have to come later,” he replies, raking a hand through Keith’s hair. “Get some rest. I’ll go make you some tea.”

Keith slides down onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. The sound of Shiro in the kitchen lulls him into sleep, even as his heart beats frantically in his ears.

Shiro makes it to the afternoon.

But then the company calls. And when Keith flicks on the news later that night, every station is covering Flight 137’s crash.

 

**DAY 8**

Keith wakes up. He can do it this time. He just has to make sure Shiro doesn’t leave. He’ll save him. He knows he will.

Shiro doesn’t leave. He makes it to bed time, but dies when he slips in the shower and cracks his skull against the floor.

 

**DAY 13**

It’s an unlucky day. Keith doesn’t believe in superstitions, but something tells him to not even try.

Shiro leaves.

Shiro dies.

 

**DAY 24**

Keith starts an argument. It makes Shiro eager to leave. Another failure, then.

 

**DAY 37**

When Keith finds Shiro in the kitchen, he breaks into sobs. Shiro holds him close and asks what’s wrong and how he can help. Keith doesn’t know how to tell him there’s nothing he can do.

“Breathe, okay? Just breathe,” Shiro murmurs into his hair, pulling him in tight.

Keith feels hopeless when he drives Shiro to the airport later that morning.

 

**DAY 55**

Shiro stays home again. He dies when he’s hit by a car as they’re crossing the street.

 

**DAY 80**

Keith doesn’t know how long it’s been. It feels like it has been years of reliving the same day, hoping for different results but getting nothing. It sucks. Everything sucks, and he doesn’t know how to change that.

He holds Shiro close. Presses his face into his chest and breathes him in. It’s the last he’ll see of him until tomorrow, when the nightmare will repeat itself.

“Baby?”

“I’m fine.” He’s not. He kisses Shiro soundly and smooths the collar of his shirt. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Shiro looks confused by that. Keith’s too exhausted to explain it.

 

**DAY 165**

Keith doesn’t know why he’s bothering to keep track. Shiro dies when he’s home. He dies on the plane. In a cruel twist of fate, he makes it all the way to Oregon but dies when he tries to save a woman from a thug.

Keith bangs his head against the wall. The pain grounds him and forces him to focus. He can’t save Shiro. He realizes that. But maybe he has to try something else.

 

**DAY 166**

Keith tries to get hit by the car. Shiro shoves him out of the way just in time. He wants to scream, but the sound gets stuck somewhere in his throat.

 

**DAY 299**

Keith doesn’t get out of bed. There isn’t any point.

 

**DAY 417**

Shiro deserves better.

Keith’s not sure why the universe picked him. Shiro’s never done a bad thing in his life. He helps those in need, gives himself until there’s nothing left to give. Keith’s never met anyone like him, anyone who deserves to live more than him.

He returns to the café, sits in the same seat he had before. The clock has stopped, but Keith keeps staring at it, waiting for time to keep ticking.

The menu is laid down in front of him with a sympathetic smile. He shoves it away.

“What can I get for you?”

“An end,” he grits out.

The drink is cold this time. It’s bitter, like black coffee, but perfectly clear when Keith glares into the cup. He drinks it until it’s gone, until the taste and even the café fades away.

 

**DAY ???**

Shiro is saved.

Keith watches him, feeling the puddle of blood beneath him grow steadily larger. There’s a flurry of movement around him, law enforcement shoving people back as they scream in fear and worry. But he’s not looking at them.

He’s looking at Shiro, at the horrified expression on his face. He's alive. He's not going to die.

Keith smiles even though it hurts.


End file.
